


Vanished

by chantefable



Category: Frontier Wolf - Rosemary Sutcliff
Genre: Ancient History, Gen, Ghosts, Immigration & Emigration, POV First Person, Post-Canon, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:24:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantefable/pseuds/chantefable
Summary: Long is the day and dark is the night when we bury our dead.





	Vanished

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrs_timmings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_timmings/gifts).



> I really liked the suggestion of Cunorix haunting Shula and the baby, so I ran away with it. Very far away.

Long is the day and dark is the night when we bury our dead.

A hundred warriors are gone, never to roam the hills and groves, never to hunt in fragrant woods. A hundred women are now dead, their thick braids and sharp spears turned into reeds and river froth; a hundred men are dead and gone, their bones cool pebbles underfoot.

Thus withers the honour and glory is dimmed; the pride of our tribe is scattered in the wind like ash and dust.

Now the songs do not echo in our homes, and our ancestors no longer haunt the land we have tread for thousands of summers. They are gone.

We carry them in our aching hearts and in our minds, and we shall bring them to a new land. A joyous land of bright green grass and perfect bloom, where strangers do not dare to spill our blood and warp our ways; a different land over the sea. We are going, swift and bleeding and still alive, and we shall be gone before our foes realise their error.

Defeated but unvanquished, we are gone where the Romans cannot reach us anymore. Where our voices shall be unsupressed, where our enemies shan't be able to quell our memories. Where strong and dutiful Cunorix, and bold and beautiful Connla, and stern and sly Ferradach Dhu shall thrive in new verses of our bards, and haunt the hearts of children to be born.

Where I shall stand, and make our folk remember: in winter we have fought, in winter we have died. I rode my horse with a child in my belly, dipped my fingers in warpaint, bathed my spear in blood. I was a shield maiden to our chieftain, and I picked up his sword and his duty. In winter we have bled, and our flesh and blood turned into nothing but mud; in winter we burned our homes and dispelled our dear ghosts, fleeing to be free.

But a new summer is coming, and we shall see it roll over the horizon, untainted by shame and loss, forever going forward, like years and people and our lives.

Swift and unyielding, we cross the land torn asunder by power and strife, and hasten towards the roiling blue sea. And in the mist, I see familiar shapes, the spirits of our fallen comrades, beloved ancestors, flayed brethren. In the mizzle, I hear the melody of old burial chants we had no time to sing; now, they will ring in these hills forever.

Let them drive the Romans and the traitors insane.

Alive and unrepentant, we shall cross the sea and kiss the verdant shore beyond. To the chieftain Ferradach Dhu, I solemnly swore to protect and cherish my husband in all that the fate may bring. To the chieftain Cunorix, I made a thousand oaths, and I shall keep them all: to fight, to flourish, to sing songs; to see our tribe spring anew. 

Hear me now, see me now! Watch me, Cunorix. I sense you in the night, one with the russet edge of the blood moon. Watch us weave our own destiny.

Now and in all summers to come, I pledge my life-blood to my people. Long is the journey and great is the pain, but the pain is what spurs us on and gives us strength. Our grief has wrapped around us like a sacrament, protecting what remains of us against the cruel whims of old gods and the new like a ring of fire. 

I run, and I ride, and I carry our future within me.

And in the dark, I feel a cold hand at my lips, thrilling me, filling me with a sense of a vanished love.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, they literally run away to Ireland, with Shula as their new chieftain and warrior queen, and with an entourage of ghosts of their ancestors et al., Cunorix included.


End file.
